As Lisa Nakata descended below the ocean surface, everything grew dark — inky black, in fact — until the submersible, Alvin, passed through a firestorm of bioluminescence produced by marine creatures.

Through a small porthole in Alvin's tight quarters, the teacher from Montessori Community School in Manoa watched, fascinated, as the mysterious deep-ocean world engulfed her.

"I'll never look at the ocean in the same way again," said Nakata, who was aboard Alvin and mother ship Atlantis last month as part of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration's "Teacher at Sea" program.

The program enables teachers to live and work side-by-side with scientists and gain first-hand experience of science and life at sea.

Atlantis, a research vessel carrying ocean scientists, had arrived at the Juan de Fuca Ridge 250 miles off the Oregon coast. Alvin's destination — a chunk of ocean floor on the flanks of the ridge — lay 8,650 feet below.

"This was a place totally inhospitable to humans, a black, black zone, yet here the deep ocean became a vast silent mirror to the Milky Way above, filled with sparkling spheres of brilliant lights," Nakata said.

The bioluminescence — light emitted from creatures such as anglerfish, rat tails and a rich assortment of jellyfish — acts as lures for prey and mates. About 90 percent of marine creatures at these depths are bioluminescent.

BASEMENT LIFE

Earth's last great frontier, the deep ocean, is frigid, remote and under crushing pressure. At the ocean floor, it's measured in tons per square inch, but during Alvin's descent, Nakata was simply awed by the fact that 90 percent of the ocean remains unexplored.

"We know more about the moons of Jupiter than we do about the deep ocean of our own planet," she said.

Nakata was invited aboard Atlantis by University of Hawai'i research professor Jim Cowen, principle investigator on a National Science Foundation-funded project to study the deep biosphere.

Cowen's research aims to understand "how microbial life lives within the cracks and fissures and pukas of the ocean's basaltic crust," he said.

To examine how "life in the basement" might survive the deep ocean's formidable conditions, Cowen's team had previously drilled bore holes through the sediment 300 feet into the basalt. The bore holes were stabilized by steel casings that functioned as observatories, allowing instruments to monitor conditions for potential life.

"The Juan de Fuca Ridge is an ideal location since the relatively young crust (less than 1 million years old) is buried beneath hundreds of feet of sediment," Cowen said. "Sediment cover is required to stabilize the drills into the basement rock."

Part of Alvin's mission on this trip would be to collect samples and record water temperatures from these bore holes within the subsea basement.

OCTOPUS' GARDEN

Nakata's adventure on Dive No. 4427 began with Alvin being hoisted into the ocean from a frame on Atlantis' deck and carefully submerged.

Within 10 minutes, darkness stretched in every direction. As acoustic signals marking position pinged back and forth, the craft descended for two hours until Alvin's pilot gently touched down on the flanks of the ridge.

When the sub's powerful beams snapped on, lighting the ocean floor, the real business got under way. Nakata watched as Alvin's pilot maneuvered the sub's robotic arm and metal fingers to open the bore hole valves, draw fluid and record temperatures.

Overseeing the operation: rat tail fish, a big yellow spider, translucent jellies and a lavender-colored octopus.

"There are all these amazing creatures out there; it's not Disney or your wild imagination, they're real and strange," Nakata said. "Attached to the ocean floor were long pink tubes that wafted with a kind of fringe on the top. I saw an 18-armed starfish that when viewed from above looked like a sunflower on the ocean floor. Yet, without Alvin's lights this would be a world of constant darkness, totally devoid of plant life."

By the time science was accomplished — and after the crew retrieved one of Alvin's manipulator arms from the sea floor — it was time for lunch (peanut butter and jelly sandwiches) before heading for the surface. But Nakata was too excited to eat.

Wrapped in blankets against the sphere's cold, she watched during the journey back up as blackness slowly gave way to navy blue, light blue and then to green sunlit water.

Back on Atlantis she underwent a tradition reserved for all Alvin passengers: a drenching with icy seawater by the ship's crew.

THE WHOLE BANANA

Had she felt nervous about the expedition?

"Yes, but most of my jitters faded the night before the dive, when I had the chance to climb down into Alvin's sphere," Nakata said. "The soft lights, classical music, the professionalism of the crew and coziness of a craft charged with such an important mission, all put me at ease."

Had she done her homework beforehand?

"Not really! I'd read about underwater volcanoes, but beneath the ocean, I learned in just the same way my students learn — by doing it as part of a team," she said. "And, just like them, sometimes I found myself in deep water — literally."

Getting into deep water, however, was exactly what the Teacher at Sea program is about, said Cowen.

"I wanted Lisa and her students to come away with a better understanding of how ocean science is done," he said.

"(It's about) sharing the anticipation, the workload and pressures of staging a cruise, the excitement and satisfaction of being at sea and having success, as well as the occasional frustrations and the satisfaction of overcoming unanticipated problems," Cowen said "… The whole banana."

The Teacher at Sea program helps teachers to convey to their students a fuller picture of doing science — it is exciting, demanding, interesting, Cowen said. It is a process that unfolds in a logical, approachable way.

This semester, Nakata is presenting her "Alvin Adventure" to her students as part of the school's science curriculum.

"I want to open their imagination to what is possible when they grow up," Nakata said.